Twisted Roots
by Daniella Ivette
Summary: Several years after the movie. Adrian David Swinton, Henry and Monica's third child, never knew about David, the Mechachild. But everything changes when he discovers the family tree he's been living in has twisted roots.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Twisted Roots  
**Author:** Daniella Ivette (formerly known as "Danielle Swinton". I changed my penname because there's actually a Californian surfer girl by that name, and I received mails that were directed to her!)  
**Genre:** Drama/Horror  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Archive:** Sure!  
**Feedback:** Please!  
**Disclaimer:** Adrian David Swinton is 100 mine. David, the Swintons, Teddy and Dr. Hobby were created by Brian W. Aldiss; Kubrick, Spielberg, Amblin Entertainment and DreamWorks own them; I just play with them. As soon as I finish playing, I promise I'll give them back Dannie snickers to herself  
**Warning:** Alternative Universe, own characters, new writing style (for me, obviously)  
**Notes: **Inspired on a "Virgin Suicides" fic I found out there. Can't remember where, but it was unfinished. So I made my own version of it, adapting it to the A.I. universe. Please, don't sue me :P  
**Summary:** the Swinton's youngest child grew up unknowing about the first Mecha-Child. But the tree where he's been living has developed twisted roots...

**Prologue**

Ever felt like your life didn't belong to yourself? Like you were not living it, but being merely a vessel for who's lived before you?  
I know what it feels like. As if someone had been watching over you, controlling every single move of the pieces in the chess board of your life. Yes, those feelings were familiar to me.

All my short life, I felt like I wasn't seen as my own person, as if I didn't have an identity. My self-esteem and awareness were  
disappearing, and leaving my body as an empty shell, with nothing inside to show.

I always wondered why, but every time I asked, I was quickly ignored. Maybe it would be over soon, and one day I'd be able to show everyone who I really was, the real Adrian David Swinton would surface. And my family, especially my mother, would love me for myself.

But I was not ready for the reality, for when it came, it hit me like a sledgehammer to my head.


	2. Early Days, Old Ways

**Chapter 1: Early Days, ****Old Ways**

Ever since I was a young boy, I was surrounded by mystery. Secrets, long lost secrets, dwelled, lingered in the place I had known as my house. I always wondered the nature of those secrets, the reason of their existence, and often I was told to shut up, forget and move on. Not that I listened to that advice, though.

I can still remember when I was eleven years old, the age when you were still too young to be considered a teen, but too old to be seen as a kid. When receiving visits, something that my parents does more often than not, some friends of my mother looked at me and said how grown-up I looked every day. But my mother, it seemed, always looked at me as if I still were a baby, always telling me not to intrude in conversations, not to touch anything that may break. Needless to say that those phrases annoyed me, even if I didn't say anything.

"Oh, Monica, you should let him be" my mother's friends would say "He's a big guy now, although he still looks like a little boy" they would add, and smile at me, something that, in my mother, would be very rare.

I remember what my response to that would be: I would smile, with my lips tightly pursed, and walk away from the living room, to let my mother alone with the visits.

To me, it seemed as if I were nothing but a burden to her. If that were the case, why did she adopt me, in the first place? What  
reason, what sentiment took her to go to Lakewood Foster Care, look at me and say "We'll take him", 7 years ago? What was in my blond hair and blue eyes that attached her to me so much? I didn't know the answer back then, but now I know that I resembled someone she had lost. But I always felt I was nothing more than a copy, of some other person she had loved and lost, she didn't care about the real me. And that was a huge let-down to me.

But that didn't stop me from trying to gain her attention.

One day, when my mother was doing the laundry, I tried to talk to her. I walked into the laundry room, and stood by her side.

"Mother?" I said, as my hand clutched my mother's blue dress.

As she looked at me, I could see in her eyes the anger mixed with annoyance, a feeling she often displayed when I got around her. Now, when I think about it, I can not remember the last time she ever looked at me with some love in her eyes, or when she held me lovingly into her arms, when I was only a 4-year-old child. But now, it seemed as if I were invisible.

"What now, Adrian? Don't you see I'm doing the laundry" she asked, with a cold glare into her brown eyes.

I often wondered what could I have done to annoy her so much. I didn't know yet, but it must have been something serious for her to ignore me, to the point of stop celebrating my birthdays. Some years ago, my birthday always came with gifts, a party in the pool, cake and a _piñata_, or whatever Gabriella, my mother's friend from New Mexico, called it. Now I didn't have any of that. Not since I became 11, and she cancelled my birthday party.

"It's just another day, Adrian. You're still 10" she said "But you'd be glad to stay so young, you're so special that no-one else can  
stay like that forever" she added mercifully, when she saw the sad expression in my face.

I never knew why she wanted to keep me locked in my 10-year-old body, for what it seemed to be like ages. I'll bet that if Cybertronics invented a hammer to keep me short, she'd buy it and try it out, so I'd stay small and locked in my room. But I knew, or  
at least suspected, there was something about that.

As I walked away from the woman I've known as my mother, I let out a low sigh. I felt so alone in that house. Why couldn't my mother have any other children, so I'd have someone else to play with, instead of Martin's old toys? His toy cars and helicopters, and even the brand-new X-Box I had gotten from my dad Henry, couldn't make up for what I really wanted: a friend, someone to talk to. Martin, at the age of 24, didn't have much time to dedicate to me, and it wasn't like I asked him to. And everybody at my school knew of Dad's busy schedule at Cybertronics, the company where he works, and has worked for the last 20 years.

In my school, I was considered some kind of outsider. I used to be very shy around people I didn't know, and making friends was not an easy thing to me. Not because I was rude or anything, but because I never found the right words to say when being around strange people. Sometimes, I got to hear kids saying "Look at the little freak!", but I just stared at them and moved on. I often received some invitations to kids' parties, PTA meetings and such, but my mother wouldn't even look at them, so I always threw them in the garbage, or hid them under the cushions in my seat on the school bus.

When I remember my mother, I always see her cleaning up the house, keeping it spotless. She seemed to be obsessed with the house's appearance, and always looked for seeing the wooden floors shining, to the point to see her reflection on it. Martin, on the other hand, would use those wooden mirrors for a very different purpose, when any of his girlfriends came home, wearing a skirt.

One of the strangest things my mom did, though, was cleaning an empty room, keeping it closed, like a sanctuary. The sewing room, that had been empty for as long as I could remember. Or so I thought. Whenever I caught her opening that room, she would close it immediately, denying me to see what was inside.

When I asked my father about my mother's strange doings, he would always give me a sad, serious look, and said "ask your mom", being those words a code for "top secret". Then he would keep his eyes glued to the computer screen, finishing whatever project Dr. Hobby asked him to do, or in any cyber-conference that he may have. Sure, he knew a lot of computers and Math, and he always helped me out with my Sciences and math homework, but that was all I could tell from our strange dad-son relationship.

And this, as you can see, has been most of my life in 11 years, or 10, as my mother wanted me to think.

My name is Adrian David Swinton, and I thought my life would never change, that I would always walk blindly into the dark.

But sooner or later, the curtain of darkness that covered my eyes would fade away to let me see the light.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _That's all for chapter 1. As you can see, I added a prologue, and new title to the chapters. I also added a small detail of __Adrian__'s life before he was adopted (which will also be shown in the second chapter).___

The style I'm trying is a bit more personal, and I could say it has a slightly dark edge to it. Remember, I'm new at this, so if you see  
something wrong or that could be added, I'm eager to receive suggestions.

**LITERARY EASTER EGGS:**

"The Lakeside Foster Care House" -- The foster care where Adrian lived since he was a baby until adopted by the Swintons. I took the name of it, inspired in the "Lakewood House" (also a foster care house), featured in V.C. Andrews's novel "Runaways". The novel's not that good, but I liked the name of the foster house.

Martin's Polished Floor Trick -- Got it from an episode in the American TV Show "My Wife and Kids" (which I love to death!), where Junior (the son) tries to steal a glance of his uncle's girlfriend's underwear using a pocket mirror placed in the tip of his shoe. I mixed that with a phrase I heard in "The Nanny" (another great TV show!) that said "These floors are so clean I could see your  
underwear in it!", when Brighton (the son) saw Fran and Maggie entering the house. Since Martin is an impish boy, I could imagine him doing that once in a while :D

**FOR NEXT CHAPTER...**

After a brief encounter with Martin's girlfriend, Adrian starts exploring the house. Getting out of his small haven, he'll discover that, in the place he's known as his house, there's more than that can be seen through the eyes...

Coming soon: "A Little Invasion"


	3. A Little Invasion

**Chapter 2: A Little Invasion**

If I were asked to mention a trait of myself when I was little, I'd say I was quite obedient. I never disobeyed my parents, or at least, I tried not to.

Back in the old days at the Lakeside Foster Care, the first rule I learned was "Don't speak unless spoken to, and do what you're asked to do". It was written on the wall, and so it was in my mind. For the rest of my childhood, I'd live up to following that.

If Mother, as always, ordered me to stay in my room, I'd obey without any protest. She wanted me to stay away from her, but in my innocent mind, I thought she wanted to protect me from the big, bad world out there. How naive was I. But, underneath it all, I had a special place, an escape. That was my Haven.

The Haven, as I liked to call my bedroom, was my favorite place. There, I could do whatever I wanted, talk to myself, read, write...in short, be myself, free from my mother's wrath, my father's sad eyes, and Martin's mocking glances. In the Haven, I could lie down on my bed, close my eyes, and let my mind wander through the halls of my conscience, and the corridors of my dreams.

And a lot of dreams I did have. Dreams of reaching adulthood, love and hope. To grow up, and show everybody out there that there was someone who still hadn't ever gone to circus, eaten ice cream (which, along with hamburgers, was a great dare to my stomach), or kissed a girl. And I could add more, since I found that notebook, one night my parents went out to a party, and left me with Martin and God knows which one of his girlfriends, although sometimes Gabriella would come over to take care of me.

"Martin, if Gabriella can't come, make sure you leave some dinner for Adrian before you go" I heard Father say, as he saw Martin's nod "We know you don't like to cook, but don't use that as an excuse for go buying some McDonald's crap, and call that a dinner for a young boy" he added, and I could see Martin rolling his eyes.

"Aaaaight, I got it" he said, as he said goodbye and closed the door.

---------------------------------

I was on my room, watching TV, when I heard a stiffed laughter and some chatting downstairs. I knew it was Martin with some girl, but I tiptoed down the stairs, anyway.

As I stepped down the stairs, I could hear them laughing and talking, as if they were the only ones in the house. When I arrived to the door, I looked at them from my little hidden corner. Fortunately, they weren't doing anything unusual, just sitting in there. But I remembered that Mother said the girls Martin fooled around with were not the type to just sit and talk, and by the way she acted and dressed, I gave her the reason for thinking like that.

This girl had long, fiery red hair, a face with too much blush, lip-gloss and eye mascara. She was wearing a very short and tight black leather skirt, an even shorter yellow tank top which showed more skin that it was supposed to show (according to Mother's opinion), and high-heeled shoes. Mother would've had an attack if she saw this girl.

I must've made some little noise, because suddenly she looked on my direction, but I quickly hid myself, so she couldn't see me. But that didn't stop her from worrying, and she asked Martin.

"You sure no one else's in here?" she said. He shook his head negatively, but she insisted "I swear I heard a noise upstairs"

"Ah, not to worry" he said "That's my little...brother" he emphasized the word 'brother' as if it were disgusting to him. "S'okay, he rarely gets out of his room, unless to go get some water of go to the bathroom...one shy boy he is"

"I see" she smiled, as she took a drag of her cigarette, and put it on one of Mother's expensive Chinese ashtrays, which she kept as clean as she could, and now a complete stranger came to stain. Mother was very meticulous, almost compulsive, on the housekeeping, and even Martin and Father weren't allowed to smoke in the house. That dirtied ashtray wouldn't be of Mother's liking when she came back home.

"I'll go get the books" Martin said, as the girl sat in the sofa "Make yourself at home"

"Sure, Marty" she smiled cockily, as she sat down, trying to look sexy, but to me, her expression seemed more like a pug dog I saw one day on Animal Planet.

I went to the kitchen to get myself some water. As the glass filled with the fresh liquid, I peered through the crystal wall, and saw the girl putting on some make-up. I filled my glass, drank a bit of water, and walked to the living room, where the girl was sitting, obeying Martin's words of making herself at home. I was slightly disgusted by her, and I could tell she noticed it, because she looked at me with annoyance in her eyes.

"What do you want, kiddo?" she asked me, as if trying to intimidate me with those gray eyes bordered with black eyeliner. But I wasn't afraid, not at all.

"Why on Earth did my brother bring a hooker?" I said, looking at her with no emotion at all. By the look in her eyes, I could see she wanted to hit me, but she'd have trouble then. I smiled at her annoyance.

"See you later, Kitty-Kitty" I said, as I walked away, although I clearly heard Martin call her Katie.

"Stupid kid" I heard her say.

---------------------------

I walked upstairs, and I saw that room. The sewing room, that seemed so inviting, so tempting, begging to be opened.

While I walked towards it, I wondered what was so dangerous in there. There had to be something, for Mother not allowing me to go in. The only time I attempted to, I just opened the door a little bit, enough for me to walk in and sneak a peek, but I wasn't brave enough to go further. When I heard a noise, I quickly ran out, leaving one of my slippers behind, and I was confused whether to go back and get it or simply get away from there. But Mother called me, and I just left the place.

This time, it would be different.

Once my hand touched the cold, metallic doorknob, which reflected the frightened expression on my face, I felt the icy sensation on the palm of my hand. I doubted, once again, if I should be doing that, breaking Mother's rules, because this was the first time I ever did it. And I'd be damned if she ever knew about it.

As I opened the door, doubtful thoughts rang back into my brain. Should I be doing this? Would I dare? Would I be brave enough to endure the consequences? For what I saw in that room when I got in, it would be the first strand of a spiderweb of secrets that would get me trapped within.

**FOR NEXT CHAPTER...**

Getting into the unknown, eerie atmosphere of the Sewing Room, Adrian may discover more than one surprise. For there's a secret that has been hidden for many years, now pleading to get out…

Coming soon: "A Face in the Dark"


	4. A Face in the Dark

_After a LONG writer's block, here you have it...chapter 3. Enjoy!_

--------------------------------------------

**Chapter 3: A Face in the Dark**

My hands started getting sweaty as I turned the doorknob to enter the sewing room. And as I entered and silently closed the door behind me, I started reconsidering the idea of ever coming in there.

As soon as I was in, my eyes, unaccustomed to the lack of light, couldn't see very well around the dim room. Only a round window behind a bed provided me some moonlight, and if it weren't for it, I would have to resign myself to stay in the dark.

I looked around the room, wondering what could be so mysterious there, for my mother to be so adamant in not letting me know. The room looked pretty normal to me, the bed was neatly made, the pillow almost new, and the sheets very clean. Even the air smelled differently. The room was even cleaner than a clinic room. This point didn't seem odd to me yet, knowing perfectly about Mother's compulsive cleaning habits.

But still...who slept in that bed? Or better yet, who occupied that room? It couldn't have been Martin's, because he's always had the same room all his life, or so I've known from the pictures I've seen, and what Martin and Dad told me. It couldn't have been Dad's either, because he only did his paperwork at office. Mom has never had any overnight guests, so I scratched that off as another reason. So...who else was left? Whose room could've this been?

I kept walking around, carefully enough for my steps not to be heard downstairs, and I found a few boxes on the floor, besides the bed, with the words "DO NOT TOUCH" in bold, black marker. Now that was odd. And besides them, there was a hint of what I'd find out was my missing slipper. But when I kneeled down to pick it up, I noticed something else under the bed that caught my interest.

There was a bunch of papers, neatly arranged in what seemed to be a binder. I took it, and as I did, I heard a very strange noise, strange, because it wasn't typical of the house.

My feet almost jumped out of my shoes, as a very low giggle could be heard all over the room. I looked around, but I found no one. Then a cold breeze came out of nowhere, and my body started to shiver as the coldness filled me, claiming me, involving me in its frozen embrace.

And, again, I heard a soft giggle. I looked around, hoping to find somebody, but the room seemed as empty as it had always been. But something, deep within it, made me think I might not be as alone as I had thought.

A cold breeze hit my face as the giggles continued, and I sat down on the floor, with my hands over my ears.

"Leave me alone...please...stop" I cried, as fear overwhelmed me, cutting through me like a thousand knives, freezing me as I had been thrown in a pool full of ice.

I was so scared of being stuck there, because if something happened to me, nobody would know, or even check this abandoned room! It wasn't like that one time I broke my arm falling from a swing when I was 7 years old. Mother and Father were there to help me back then, but, right now, I was all alone...and the fear returned, with more tears flowing from my eyes.

But then, I saw it.

A pale white body, sitting on the bed, with a ghostly touch to it that it could be easily noticed. It seemed like I could see right through it, it was almost traslucent. My heart skipped a beat, as I slowly walked towards the ghostly being.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice cracking at every word.

As I stepped closer, I saw it was a boy, dressed in white, looking at me with blue eyes so identical to mine. He looked at me and smiled, as he stood up and started to walk towards me.

Even now, when I think of that moment, I can still feel the fear that ran like frozen blood through my veins, as I forced my legs to move, to run away. Somehow, I managed to run, after stumbling down twice. I wiped off my hands, and ran to the door, closing it afterwards.

Outside, my eyes hurt a little bit, unaccustomed to such a bright light after being in such a dark place. I ran back to my bedroom, and sat down on my bed. Then, I realized that besides me, I had a notebook.

And it was no normal notebook, mind you. It was a large, blue binder that looked like a book, which seemed almost new, if you consider for how long it was kept in that sewing room. Whose book could this be? Who would it belong to? Unfortunately, it had nothing that could help me identify the owner. I first assumed it was Martin's, but I quickly remembered I had never seen him with that at all.

I couldn't help my hands from shaking as I opened the notebook. After being abandoned for so long, I expected to see dust coming from inside or the sheets stuck to each other. But none of that happened. The sheets were neatly organized, and the childish paintings still retained their bright colors.

I yawned as I closed the book, since it was 9:30 p.m. I hid it under my pillow, so I could take a further look tomorrow. And, as I laid down and closed my eyes, I let my tired body rest for the night. Or so I thought.

Some time later, maybe an hour or two, I was awakened by a cold breeze. My body stiffened, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a figure...the same one I had seen in the sewing room!

The boy was standing besides my bed, smiling at me, not moving at all. Which made him seem more frightening. He reached out his hand, and before I could do anything, he stroke my cheek, and I felt a cold sensation over my face.

Then, a stream of tranquility washed over me, as I closed my eyes again. But when I opened them, I saw no one but me on the room. Who was this boy? Why did he come for me? What was this all about?

I shivered again at my thoughts. As I laid my head on the pillow, I tried to convince myself it was all a dream. That maybe...maybe it was an illusion, after all.

Little did I know that sooner than later, I would be proven wrong.

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**FOR NEXT CHAPTER...**

_Adrian starts reading the notebook he found after his intrusions to the closed room. As he reads, he will find clues and memories of its former owner, secrets he had not expected to know, and that will change his vision and memories of the Swinton family..._

_Coming soon: "Book of Memories"_


	5. Book of Memories

**Chapter 4: Book of Memories**

Ah, Valentine's Day. The one day to celebrate love everywhere. It was a day I would always remember as one of the few days I saw Mother in a good mood, because Father had given her flowers and a box of chocolate. She even let me stay up to 9 p.m. to watch TV, when at that hour she always sent me off to sleep.

That night was special, because she had a beautiful beige dress, for Father was going to take her out to a fancy restaurant. She was in her bedroom applying some perfume, while humming a melody I had never heard. Then Father came from behind her and hugged her, whispering romantic, silly things in her ear which caused her to smile. But that smile quickly faded as she saw me watching her, because her face had quite an awkward expression.

I walked away, but I could not take that scene off my mind. I always wanted to grow up, to see the day when I would kiss a girl, and give her flowers and candy. That was one of the things I wanted to do when I grew up...and was quite similar to one I found in the notebook.

With shaky fingers and trembling hands, I opened the notebook, letting my fingers slid through the plastic material. Despite the time it had been closed and abandoned in that locked room, it looked almost new, as if time had stopped in that room so the things in there wouldn't be affected by it. The first page only had one picture, of a blond-haired boy hugging a bear.

I couldn't shake off the feeling of how much that boy looked like the one I had seen in my nightmares. This thought stuck in my head as my fingers flipped through the pages, admiring every picture and letter, which contained such memories of happy days and warm breezes I had never felt in this house. That's when I found a short letter, clumsily written:

_Dear Mommy, how are you-_

_  
Dear Mommy, I love you so much that-_

_  
Mommy, I'm your favourite boy, not Martin, and-_

_  
Mommy, do you love me as much as I-_

_  
_I couldn't help my tears from falling on the sheet. In their fading, inaccurate colours, those half-written sentences had moved my heart. If only I knew who could be this kid who made so beautiful pictures and whose heart seemed to be so full of love. Obviously, that wasn't Martin. So, who could it be?

Suddenly, I found another written page. This time it wasn't a letter but a list, like the ones Mother used to write when she went to buy groceries or leave the chores for us to do. Only this one was titled "Ten things I must do when I become a real boy", and here it was:

_1- Hide Martin's helicopter and his toy soldiers._

_2- Go to school_

_3- Learn to cook for Mommy and Henry, and eat Mommy's food_

_4- Swim in the pool with Teddy_

_5- Go to the circus_

_6- Read the entire Pinocchio book_

_7- Have a birthday party and eat lots of cake_

_8- Kiss a girl_

_9- Graduate_

_10- Grow up_

I assumed this boy was related to Martin, and knowing how Martin was when he was younger (as Father once told me, much to Martin's dismay), it would've been normal wanting to get back at him for childhood pranks. Go to school? I wondered why didn't he attend school, unless Mother had a reason to have him home-schooled. Learn to cook? Well, Mother was a fairly good cook, and sometimes I wanted to help her out in the kitchen, but she'd always say no, with a puzzled look on her face. But when it was Father's turn to cook, he always let me help, and I enjoyed it so much I understood this boy for wanting it too.

As I kept reading, I realized how much he and I had in common, because I loved going to the circus, that is, when Father and Martin had time to take me. And it seemed we both loved cake and parties, at least that's what I could see. I really felt for this kid, who seemed to have so many dreams that, somehow, he couldn't fulfill.

The eighth point was a bit odd, though. I did not know many girls at school, let alone kissing one! I did see Martin kissing his girlfriends, or Father kissing Mother, and the kisses on the romantic movies Mother would watch on TV while doing the laundry. Sure, I could see how it was like, but I didn't know what it felt like. And that's another point this boy and I agreed at.

As I kept reading, what really got me was the last point: growing up. What could be so great about it? Losing your innocence, assuming new responsibilities in life? If that was so, why do some people wish they had never grown up? I couldn't keep thinking about it, because when I arrived to the last page, I read the word "David" on bold, black marker.

"David?" I said, and my voice echoed in the room, and I couldn't believe what I heard after that. A giggle, just like the one I heard in the sewing room!

I looked around, feeling so scared I could barely move properly. I gasped as I felt a cold breeze ran down my spine, while my thoughts were fixed on thinking about something, anything that may help to stop the fear I had, to stop the haunting feeling that reigned on my mind.

Little by little, I could move again. The breeze gently hit my face, as I ran away from the bedroom. But, once I closed it, and then opened it slightly to peek in, I found nothing unusual. What could that have been? Had my mind been tricking me all along? I just wished these mind games could just stop...

I ran down the stairs towards the kitchen, and I got myself a glass of water. I took it back to my room and, after making sure no one was there but me, I sat on my bed and opened the notebook again.

As I read the notes, I wondered who this David kid could be. This boy who seemed to find happiness in life's simplest things, a good meal, bright colors, dreams and hopes. All I knew was his name, which, as a mere coincidence, matched my own middle name. Could it be possible for me to meet him? Where could he be? Living with some relatives?

My mind went in a lot of directions, not knowing which one to take. All I had with me was that book, filled with memories, colorful figments of happier times that would never take place again.

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**FOR NEXT CHAPTER...**

_A new friendship helps Adrian_ _to open up to his family, but the hidden secrets in it may not be so easy to reveal..._

_Coming soon: _"Conspiracy of Silence"


End file.
